


Foxfire

by meoqie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Kitsune, M/M, Magical Realism, Marriage, Sex Work, Sheith Secret Santa 2018, Shiro just thinks Keith is a sex worker, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 17:56:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meoqie/pseuds/meoqie
Summary: Shiro met a mysterious man in a fox fur coat one fateful night at a club he didn't really want to be at, and somehow, after much time and heartache, that man became his husband. But despite their marriage there were things about Keith that remained mysterious, and when Shiro accidentally stumbles upon his most important secret, the consequences are far more devastating than he could have ever predicted.





	Foxfire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lunarium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/gifts).



> For Lorien - I kind of smushed a few of your requests together, I hope that's okay. I leaned heavily into the seasonally appropriate aspects, and went with more of just a Japanese folklore creature than a specific story. My knowledge of folklore is primarily western, so I used a lot of attributes that are more selkie than kitsune, but I hope you like it anyway!
> 
> General notes - there's a brief mention of potential alcoholism and brief suicide ideation. The handful of smut scenes use generally vague terms for Keith's genitalia.

Bright neon lights from the surrounding clubs and cafes illuminated the falling snow, turning the white flakes multicolored in sporadic pools. Allura’s hair was also reflecting the kaleidoscope effect, and Shiro supposed his own was catching the light similarly. Despite how crowded the streets were, the snow made everything feel a little more hushed. No cars attempted to drive down the narrow, unplowed street, giving pedestrians more room to walk. An effort had been made to clear the sidewalks at least, but the nonstop snow kept piling up. Getting home later would be an adventure.

Lance pulled the door to the nearest club open and the sensation of serenity was broken by a pounding bass beat. Shiro was left standing on the sidewalk alone as his friends vanished inside. The door swung shut, cutting off the music. Once again it was quiet enough to hear the snow pattering against his shoulders. Maybe he could just continue walking, and no one would notice. Music shattered the silence again as Pidge pushed the door back open.

“Shiro! Come on!”

Ah well. Brushing snow from his sleeves, Shiro obeyed her beckoning and left the snowy sidewalk for the crowded club.

His friends had quickly scoped out a spot at the bar, crowding against the counter to order drinks.

“Try to have some fun tonight, okay?” Allura said, leaning close in order to be heard.

“I’ll do my best,” Shiro promised, accepting the concoction that was pressed into his hand.

“What is this?” he asked, eyeing the creamy beverage.

“Something with eggnog!” Hunk answered. “It’s a December exclusive.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Shiro reminded, passing the drink back to the other man.

“Oh, right.” Hunk shrugged and downed both his own and Shiro’s.

Shiro sighed and ordered a beer.

As his friends danced, he nursed his beer, and then a second, and a third. Even Pidge was persuaded to abandon her phone and dance a little, letting Hunk and then Allura drag her to the dance floor. Shiro resigned himself to yet another evening out where he spent the entire time wishing he was back home.

But the universe had other ideas, because as he was about to order a fourth beer his gaze slid past the bartender, drawn away by a gold pendant reflecting the lights behind him, flashing brightly.

The pendant was worn by the most beautiful man Shiro had ever seen. In a moment like something out of a television drama, he found his eyes captured by everything about him. His dark hair was turned into an iridescent oil slick under the shifting club lights. He wore a fur coat over a sleeveless turtleneck, one side of the coat sliding off his shoulder to expose a spray of freckles. His dark lashes were long enough to be visible even from this distance. The moment stretched on, and the man turned to meet his gaze. Like a man possessed, Shiro got to his feet and circled the bar. It was uncharacteristic of him to ever leave the protective radius of his friends, even more so to approach a stranger. But Shiro felt as though he was beguiled, following foxfire deep into the unknown.

“Hi.”

The man blinked, those dark lashes brushing faintly freckled cheeks.

“Hi.”

“I’m Shiro. May I buy you a drink?”

A corner of the man’s mouth quirked up, the ghost of a memory of a smile. “I’m Keith. And I’ve already got a drink.”

Keith gestured to the untouched whiskey sour sitting by his elbow.

“Oh.” Shiro could take a hint, he wouldn’t press someone who was uninterested.

“But you don’t seem to have a drink,” Keith said, stopping him with a hand on his arm before he could leave. “So perhaps I could buy you one instead?”

“Oh.” Apparently his vocabulary had been drastically reduced by Keith’s proximity. “I- yeah. Okay.” He sat down beside Keith.

Keith’s lips only twitched again, but his eyes conveyed the smile that the rest of his face did not. He summoned the bartender with a polite wave.

“Add whatever this gentleman is getting to my tab.”

Shiro panicked, instantly forgetting any alcoholic beverage he’d enjoyed up until that moment. So he just ordered the same thing as what Keith had, neglecting to remember that he didn’t really enjoy whiskey sours.

He tried to keep the distaste off his face as he took a sip, but it seemed as though he failed when Keith raised an eyebrow.

“You could have gotten anything, I wouldn’t have been offended if you didn’t copy me,” he said.

Shiro’s face burned. “I panicked,” he admitted. “I don’t usually do things like this.”

“What, have drinks bought for you?”

Shiro shook his head. “Talk to beautiful strangers at bars.”

To his everlasting delight, Keith actually laughed at that. He took the whiskey sour from Shiro’s hand and set it next to his own before summoning the bartender again.

Feeling sheepish, Shiro ordered a beer.

“So, Shiro, what _do_ you usually do?” Keith asked, leaning his pointed chin on one hand.

“Avoid going to bars as often as possible, really,” Shiro said. “I prefer to stay home.”

Keith lightly laid his other hand on Shiro’s thigh. Shiro’s heart rate skyrocketed.

“Then why don’t you take me home?”

Time came to a screeching halt; Shiro stared into Keith’s eyes as he distantly heard his own voice stammer out something that passed for an affirmative.

Keith knocked back both whiskey sours with alarming speed. “I’ll settle my tab. Finish your beer. Meet me outside.”

Shiro stood in stock-still shock for a moment longer. Who was picking up whom here?

He sipped his beer and sent Pidge a quick text that he was heading out as he wandered towards the door, not in a hurry to expose himself to the cold and snow after being accustomed to the warm air inside the club. Pidge replied before he even reached the entryway.

_-Have fun! Use protection ;)_

Shiro flushed and shoved his phone back into his pocket, refusing to turn around and give Pidge any kind of satisfaction in seeing him flustered.

Keith was already waiting outside, his fox fur jacket pulled tight around his chest.

“Did you walk here?” he asked, eyeing the accumulating snow on the street.

“It’s not far,” Shiro assured him.

Keith nodded slightly, hugging his jacket tighter. Shiro hovered his arm over his shoulders, and when the other man didn’t pull away, he pressed him close. Huddled together for warmth, they made their way down the snowy road.

 

 

Keith was on him the moment the door to his apartment swung shut, mouth hot and tasting like whiskey. Shiro froze in surprise, expecting at least a little preamble. He wanted to pull away, ask him to slow down, but his own brain was alcohol-addled and Keith’s heated kisses were travelling right to his hardening cock.

He wrapped his arms around that delightfully slender waist, and Keith responded by hitching his legs up around his hips, supporting his own weight with just the strength of his thighs. Shiro groaned.

“You’re amazing,” he breathed between kisses.

“Fuck me,” Keith demanded in response.

Shiro decided to just accept that he was not dictating any aspect of this evening. He carried Keith to his bedroom.

 

Sunlight pierced the spaces between the blinds and turned the back of Shiro’s eyelids into a red-hot beacon that dragged him from slumber. He groaned, turning his face into his pillow. It smelled like unfamiliar shampoo and sex. That was enough to wake him fully; ignoring his dull headache he opened his eyes and sat up. But he was alone, his partner from the previous night having vanished while he slept. The clothes he’d abandoned on the bedroom floor were gone as well. It was too much to hope that Keith was just in the bathroom, but Shiro threw on a pair of pants and checked anyway. His apartment was as empty as his bed. Shiro felt equally as hollow. He hadn’t even gotten his phone number.

 

****

 

“This is an intervention,” Pidge declared as she barged her way into Shiro’s apartment without even knocking.

Hunk and Lance followed closely behind her.

Shiro stirred from where he’d been dozing on the couch, only half aware of his surroundings but managing to remind the intruders to remove their shoes in the entryway. Pidge groaned and clomped back to unlace her boots.

“Why do I need an intervention?” Shiro asked, sitting up.

Pidge pinned him with a firm look before gesturing her hand to his surroundings.

Okay, so he’d let the cleaning go a little bit. He glanced at the collection of fast food bags and cups on his coffee table and winced. Alright, a lot bit.

“You’ve been living like a hermit for the past three weeks,” Hunk pointed out.

“A filthy hermit,” Pidge added.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Shiro said, affronted. Pidge was a pack rat with no sense of organization.

“This isn’t about me right now,” she primly replied. “You don’t normally live like this so clearly something is wrong.”

“Scoring is supposed to revitalize you, not send you into a weird spiral of self torment,” Lance said, marching in and starting to gather up the bags. “Panda Express? Really, Shiro? You _hate_ Panda Express! This is worse than we thought. Did he suck your soul out through your dick or something?”

Shiro grimaced and stood, suddenly very aware that he was wearing pajama pants that should have been washed several days ago and a shirt that hadn’t seen the light of day since high school.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said with a sigh, reaching to help Lance.

Lance batted his hand away. “Nope, nuh-uh, you’re gonna go shower and shave because you look like a nasty caveman. Then we’re going out somewhere because this place is rank with misery.”

The last thing Shiro wanted to do was go out, but his friends were right. He needed to stop dwelling. It was a one night stand that didn’t pan out, not the end of a long-term relationship. He needed to shake himself out of his funk.

“Give me like forty-five minutes,” he acknowledged, heading down the hall to wash off the stench of depression.

 

 

Fate was a cruel, heartless mistress.

Shiro dug his heels in about most definitely not going to a club; he’d always hated those places, and this was supposed to be about him, right? And - although he didn’t voice this - he didn’t want to run the risk of somehow encountering Keith again. His pride couldn’t handle that. So they all crammed themselves around a small table in a cozy cafe, sipping lattes and munching on pastries. It was nice, actually. Shiro considered himself to be an introvert, but sometimes being surrounded by his dearest friends was exactly what he needed.

“... so then I said, how do you know those aren’t mine?” Lance said with a flourish, telling a story that was clearly very embellished with the way Hunk was rolling his eyes. “And then she was like, I would totally believe you except I know apricot isn’t really your color. Like, for real? Apricot? How pretentious can you be. Just say orange!”

Shiro smiled, his gaze and attention wandering as the door jingled with a new entry to the cafe. His breath caught in his chest as the newcomer possessed a very familiar head of shaggy black hair and fox fur coat. Keith turned his head, and once again their eyes met from across a room. Pride be damned. He stood up, his chair scraping the floor loudly.

“Shiro?” Lance asked, his voice distant.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured absently, approaching the door.

“Hi,” he said, echoing their first meeting.

“Hi,” Keith repeated, wary.

“Can I buy you your coffee?”

An internal conflict briefly played out across Keith’s pointed features. “Sure.”

They walked towards the counter together, Keith’s face downturned and his hands shoved in his pockets. He placed his order so quietly the cashier asked him to repeat it twice.

“I’m making you uncomfortable,” Shiro said once he paid. “I’m sorry, I’ll just go.”

Keith caught his sleeve as he turned away, an unreadable expression on his face. “No, it’s fine. I just… didn’t expect you to be nice to me.”

“Why?” It was a bit malicious, but Shiro was scraping his pride off of the bottom of Keith’s shoes at this point.

Keith narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think I really need to spell it out.”

The scraped remains splattered to the floor again. Shiro lightly tapped his fingers against the countertop, avoiding Keith’s gaze. “We didn’t discuss anything beforehand, choosing to leave was entirely your prerogative. I was certainly disappointed, but I wasn’t mad at you. I had no reason to be.”

Keith hummed, leaning on the counter with his elbows. “And what are you hoping to get out of this interaction?”

“Your phone number,” Shiro said honestly. “But if you aren’t interested, I understand.”

Keith was silent for a long while, murmuring a quiet thanks as the barista handed him his drink. Shiro noted that it was in a to-go cup. “I don’t have a phone,” he said finally, pushing away from the counter.

It didn’t sound like a lie, despite how unusual that was in this day and age.

“But I’m… usually around this area,” Keith continued. “So maybe we’ll run into each other again. I gotta go, though. Thanks for the coffee.”

And then he was gone, leaving Shiro feeling even more bereft than before. Shoulders slumped, he returned to the table where Lance, Hunk, and Pidge were waiting.

“... I’m starting to put some pieces together here,” Hunk said. “He ditched before dawn.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Shiro said, putting his head down on the table with a groan.

Hunk patted his back. “He doesn’t deserve a great guy like you, anyway.”

Lance and Pidge agreed enthusiastically.

Shiro tried to take their words to heart. Keith wasn’t interested in anything beyond the single night that they’d shared; he should accept that and move on.

But a tiny, hopeful part of him was clinging to the ‘maybe’ that Keith had extended like a single, fraying rope as his only hope of climbing back over a steep ledge.

 

 

Perhaps he’d been too hasty in declaring Fate to be an evil entity interested only in his suffering. The vague offer of ‘maybe’ became shockingly concrete when Shiro ran into Keith at the library. And again at a small sandwich shop. And again just walking down the street window shopping at all the Christmas displays.

Each time they merely exchanged pleasantries and chatted for a while, as if their first encounter hadn’t been a salacious single night after meeting at a bar. Shiro didn’t really mind, even though the feeling of Keith’s body against his own still haunted his dreams and often his waking thoughts.

With how regularly they bumped into each other completely by chance, Shiro wondered how they’d never met before. Perhaps Keith was new to the area. But every time he thought to ask the words just flew out of his head, and he wouldn’t remember until after they’d already parted ways.

It wasn’t until the weather was beginning to change from winter to spring that they managed to spend any substantial time together. An unseasonably warm day drew Shiro to a nearby park after work, and Keith was sitting on a bench, a ratty paperback in hand. Despite the temperature, he still wore his usual fox fur jacket.

As Shiro approached, Keith glanced up, giving him a genuine smile that sent warmth spreading through his chest.

“Would you like to come to dinner with me?” he asked in a breathless rush, the words leaving his mouth before his mind even registered that he wanted to say them.

Keith blinked, his long, dark lashes fluttering like butterfly wings.

“Sure.”

 

 

Keith coming back to his apartment after dinner hadn’t really been Shiro’s plan, but somehow an inevitability anyways. Even without the assistance of anything stronger than a single glass of wine, Keith’s mouth was still burning hot and intoxicating on its own.

His dark hair poured like ink across Shiro’s light blue pillowcase as he cried out, hands limp above his head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praised, buried deep inside of him.

Keith reached up with one arm, pulling him down to silence his words with a searing kiss.

Come morning, he was gone.

Shiro wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

It became a pattern. Encounters that were nothing more than brief, casual conversation interspersed with ones that ended with Keith in his bed.

Sometimes, Shiro woke just as Keith was leaving. He always asked him to stay, at least just for breakfast. Keith always said no.

But it was fine. He was fine. His friends were worried, but he did his best to act normal for their sake. This was his own choice. It wasn’t a relationship. It was barely friends with benefits. Shiro was just desperate enough to take Keith any way he could have him.

 

****

 

“So, tell me about this guy you’ve been seeing.”

Shiro’s stomach sank. He’d been suspicious of Matt’s intentions ever since the other man poked his head into his office and offered to treat him to lunch, completely out of the blue. Now he was trapped at a table with food on the way, a helpless victim to Matt’s interrogation.

“Well, his name is Keith,” Shiro began slowly. “He… lives around here somewhere. He’s not particularly talkative, but he’s mentioned he likes hiking. He likes to read, I think. I’ve met him at the library a few times, and I’ve seen him at the park with a book.”

As he trailed off, Matt gave him an expectant look.

“His favorite color is red? He likes gold jewelry? He doesn’t believe in aliens?” Shiro finished lamely. That was about the end of what he knew about Keith without getting into much more private details, like the way he enjoyed Shiro being a little rough with him, or that he loved having his hair played with.

“That’s it?” Matt exclaimed, nearly overturning their drinks as he flung his hands up. “Nothing about his family? His friends? What he does for a living?”

Shiro winced. “I don’t want to pry. We occasionally sleep together and sometimes we hang out. It’s not a relationship. He’s not obligated to tell me anything.”

Matt groaned.

“Besides.” Shiro hesitated. “He’s always wearing that same fox fur coat. I think he might be homeless. Or a prostitute. Or both?”

Matt stared at him. “You’ve been having sex with a homeless prostitute?”

“I said I _think_. And _might be_ ,” Shiro protested.

“Have you at least been having _safe_ sex with this homeless prostitute?”

“Yes,” Shiro lied.

“Shiro.”

Shiro sighed. “Okay, no. We haven’t used protection, _but-_ ” He cut off Matt’s impending rant. “Every time we have sex I get tested. I’m not a complete idiot. The results always come back clean.”

“So at least he’s an otherwise cautious prostitute,” Matt said around the straw of his bubble tea.

Shiro gave up on convincing Matt that he didn’t know for sure that Keith was a prostitute.

It was strange, though, how he never seemed to go anywhere without that coat. Even at the height of summer, he wore it over his otherwise seasonal outfits of shorts and tank tops. Shiro wanted to ask about it, but every time he actually saw Keith, the question fluttered out of his reach. Which defied all logic. Shiro just blamed it on the fact that he was distracted by Keith himself. It wasn’t much of a reach. Shiro could forget his own name at the sight of Keith’s smile.

Summer cooled to autumn, and the fox fur jacket stopped looking quite so out of place. Shiro completely forgot why he ever thought it was unusual in the first place.

 

****

 

“Did you and Keith break up?”

“We aren’t dating,” Shiro answered automatically before he fully registered the question, his mind a million miles away.

Allura sighed heavily and turned the water off. He’d been rinsing rice for much longer than was necessary.

“Not what I asked,” she said. “You’ve been… extra mopey lately. Did something happen?”

Shiro was about to say no when he stopped and actually thought about it. “It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen him,” he admitted. “We usually see each other at least once a week.”

The last time they’d gotten together was the same night as the first snow of the season, and they hadn’t encountered each other since.

“Have you tried calling him?” Allura prompted gently.

Shiro shook his head. “He doesn’t have a phone,” he explained. “And I have no way of looking him up, or anything like that. He always just… finds me.”

Bile rose in his throat at a horrifying realization. If something were to happen to Keith, he’d never know. He didn’t really know anything about him. He could be shot dead in a back alley and Shiro wouldn’t know.

“Hey, hey,” Allura said, laying a hand on his arm. “If something had happened, it would be in the news, right? There hasn’t been anyone matching Keith’s description reported missing or otherwise. The weather has gotten colder, maybe he’s staying at a shelter or something.”

Shiro nodded mutely. This time, he was probably fine. But now that seed of fear had been planted in his mind. He took to watching the evening news much more regularly.

Three weeks turned into four, which turned into five. Christmas came and went and Shiro dimly realized it had been over a year now since he’d first met Keith that fateful night at the club.

There was nothing in the news, and Shiro was beginning to accept that Keith had just wordlessly ended things.

Over and over, he reminded himself that it hadn’t been a relationship. He couldn’t even call it a friendship, really. That didn’t stop him from always being on the lookout for that iconic fox fur coat. It was Keith’s most prominent identifying feature aside from his silky-soft hair cut into what Lance referred to as a mullet but was definitely not a mullet and his gorgeous eyes that somehow went beyond blue and into purple and those faint freckles that covered most of his body and-

Shiro grimaced as his spiralling thoughts were once again obsessing over his former sometimes-lover. It was over. He had to move on.

But once again the universe had other plans. In a poetic twist that brought things full circle, Shiro found Keith again in the same club where they’d first met.

Nausea gripped him when he recognized that fox fur coat. Should he ignore him? Pretend he didn’t see him? Throw a drink in his face? Okay, the last one was definitely going too far.

Like so many things with Keith, though, the decision was taken out of his hands.

“Shiro!”

Arms wrapped around his neck, Keith crashed into him with the full weight of his body, and Shiro stumbled back from the force.

“Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” Keith said, pulling back. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. I had… some things I needed to take care of unexpectedly.”

Not immediately visible in the dim light of the club, Keith’s face was marred with fading bruises, and his fox fur coat had a jagged tear on one shoulder.

All the anger and resentment Shiro had been feeling melted away, replaced only with concern as he cupped Keith’s chin.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Keith assured him. “It was just stupid, petty bullshit. A minor disagreement, really. Nothing you need to worry about, I promise. Let me buy you a drink?”

If Keith said it was fine, then he didn’t need to worry. But he held him a little tighter, hands settling in the small of his back.

“Actually, I would rather go someplace quieter,” Shiro said.

“Your place?” Keith asked hopefully.

Saying no never crossed Shiro’s mind.

 

 

Shiro woke sometime before dawn, the fading moonlight reflecting off the snow outside to fill the room with a blue glow. It wasn’t apparent what had woken him, but he didn’t feel the least bit sleepy any longer. He shifted onto his side, and felt his breath catch at the sight of Keith, still asleep on the bed beside him. He laid there silently, watching his peaceful expression. Carefully, he brushed a strand of hair away from his face and trailed his hand down to caress his shoulder. He paused, frowning. The skin beneath his hand was rough and gnarled, and when he peered close he could see a fresh scar, in the same exact place as the tear in his coat.

Just what kind of disagreement had Keith gotten into?

The coat in his mind and possessing inexplicable wakefulness, Shiro quietly got out of bed and pulled on some sweats. Grabbing the fox fur jacket off the floor, he brought it out into the living room. Somewhere he had a sewing kit that he sort of knew how to use. How hard could stitching up a tear be?

It took him a little over ten minutes to manage to thread a needle, after which he discovered that the sewing kit also included a needle threader. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, staving off a minor existential crisis. But when he flipped the coat inside out, there was no visible hole. Shiro set the needle aside, frowning as he examined the damage more closely.

“What are you doing?”

Shiro started, nearly dropping the coat. He looked up to see Keith standing in the doorway, a guarded expression on his face.

“I was just seeing if I could fix this,” he said. “But it’s not really a rip, more like a bare spot where the fur has come off. It would have to be patched with more fur. Are you heading out?”

Keith nodded, still watching him warily.

“Here.” Shiro held out the jacket to the other man.

Keith hesitated. “You’re… giving me back my coat?”

Bemused, Shiro tilted his head. “Of course; it’s your coat. I would never take it.”

Keith reached out, accepting the coat from his hands.

“Actually,” he said, looking down at it. “I think I’ll stay. Does your offer of breakfast still stand?”

 

****

 

The wedding was in early spring, patches of snow still here and there despite the buds beginning to sprout on the trees. Keith looked stunning in the vivid red kimono he’d chosen, his soft black hair framing his face as the shorter strands escaped his tidy bun. As they recited their vows, a gentle rain began to fall despite the bright sunlight. Keith laughed, tilting his head upwards as the drops peppered his skin.

“Look,” he said, pointing towards the rainbow stretching across the sky. “A blessing on our marriage.”

Shiro barely spared the rainbow a passing glance. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the most beautiful sight he’d even seen - his husband, a ring on his finger and a smile on his face.

And so began the most wonderful year of Shiro’s life.

Keith fit into his routine so perfectly, like he’d always been there. Waking up beside Keith in the morning and coming home to him in the evening filled Shiro with indescribable joy. They moved out of Shiro’s small apartment and into a cozy two-bedroom house in a quiet neighborhood, making the home their own, together. Cohabitating was an adventure, but they fumbled through it with laughter and love.

Neither of them could cook, they quickly discovered. Shiro was a disaster in the kitchen, and everything Keith produced was bland and tasteless.

“I’ve never really had to cook before,” Keith confessed as he stared at the array of recently purchased spices, totally mystified.

Shiro wrapped his arms around him from behind, kissing the back of his neck. ‘It’s okay, baby. You’ll figure it out.”

Keith huffed, but he submitted to being kissed and coddled. Shiro still didn’t know much about Keith’s life before they met, but it hardly seemed important. Keith was his husband now, what else mattered?

His wonderful, incredible, beautiful husband.

One of the first things Shiro did for his husband was buy him a brand new jacket, a bright red leather bomber that he’d been admiring through a store window. The fox fur coat hung, seemingly untouched, in the back of their closet.

 

 

“I’m thinking of getting a job,” Keith announced over a moderately more edible dinner in early summer. “I’m getting sort of bored alone at home all the time. I can only clean the house so many times.”

Shiro nodded in agreement, feeling a bit guilty that he’d been keeping Keith like a princess in a tower. “What kind of job are you thinking of?” he asked.

Keith shrugged. “I don’t really have much work experience,” he confessed, pushing around a lump of mysterious vegetable on his plate.

“Well, there’s lots of coffee shops and cafes around here that always need extra help,” Shiro said. “I think you’d be more competent than the flighty high school kids they usually hire.”

Keith laughed, thinking of the place where they’d received the wrong orders three visits in a row.

“Will you help me submit applications?” he asked shyly. “I’ve never had to do that before.”

“Of course, Keith,” Shiro said, reaching across the table to take his husband’s hand. “I would do _anything_ for you. You never even have to ask.”

Keith’s eyes shone. “How did I get so lucky?”

Shiro shook his head. “Believe me, my love, I’m the lucky one.”

Dinner was forgotten as they got up from their seats to embrace, exchanging soft kisses that quickly grew more heated.

 

 

“You’re so beautiful,” Shiro murmured, peppering the inside of Keith’s thighs with love bites as his husband writhed on their bed.

“Stop teasing,” he begged, panting.

His dusky mauve folds glistened with slick arousal, but Shiro continued to torment him with kisses and caresses.

“I love you,” Shiro breathed, finally pressing his mouth against where Keith had been begging him to. “So much.”

Keith gripped his hair in one hand and moaned. “Show me how much,” he demanded.

So Shiro made love to his husband until he was limp and breathless, wrung out on five orgasms.

 

****

 

Six months of marriage didn’t seem to do much to assuage the concerns of Shiro’s friends. Every time they got together he was needled for more details about his mysterious husband. He sighed heavily as once again Pidge cornered him while Keith was in the bathroom during a movie night.

“Don’t you ever think it’s kind of… strange?” she prodded. “The way you don’t really know much about Keith?”

“I know plenty of things about Keith,” Shiro said, confused. “I know what he likes in his coffee, and that he hates tags in his clothes. I know that he doesn’t like green peppers but he loves broccoli, just like me. I know-”

“What about who his parents are? Or where he went to school?” Pidge countered, cutting him off.

Shiro frowned, humming. “Well, is that stuff really important?”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “You don’t know anything at all about his past. He’s your husband, and the best you’ve got about his life before you married him is that he _might_ have been a homeless prostitute.”

Shiro stiffened at the judgement in her voice. “And why does that matter? I love him, and he loves me. We’re _happy_ , Pidge! So what if he prefers to keep his past to himself? Maybe it’s traumatic for him. It’s never been a barrier between us. The only Keith I’m concerned about is the Keith that’s married to me right now, not the Keith from five or ten years ago. And if he ever wants to share his past with me, it will be his choice.”

Pidge sighed, swirling her straw through her soda. “I just want you to be careful, Shiro. I remember how miserable you were when Keith was just an occasional one night stand. Then just super suddenly he decided to marry you? It seems kind of suspicious. What if he has some kind of ulterior motive?”

“You don’t understand,” Shiro said, shaking his head. “Keith isn’t like that. It just took him a while to deem me trustworthy. He probably had conversations exactly like this with his friends.”

“What friends, Shiro?’

Shiro fell silent. He actually didn’t know if Keith had any other friends. He’d never mentioned any, and he’d never met up with anyone Shiro didn’t know since they’d been together.

“See,” Pidge said, although her tone was more gentle. “I’m just saying you shouldn’t trust him so blindly. Just start slow and ask a few questions about his past. If he resists, you can back off.”

Shiro was saved from further conversation by Keith returning. As his husband sat back down beside him, he curled his arm around his shoulders protectively. It didn’t matter that his friends disapproved of their marriage. They loved each other, and whatever dark secrets were in Keith’s past, they could deal with it together if and when Keith chose to talk about them.

 

****

 

“What’s in those?” Keith asked as he came home from the coffeeshop to find Shiro hauling a couple of storage bins out of the garage.

“Christmas decorations!” Shiro declared happily. “I know it’s not traditionally celebrated to this degree, but I really love Christmas. We have so much more space now, I think even this won’t be enough…”

Keith opened one of the bins, pulling out a sparkling gold bauble. “I’ve never celebrated Christmas before,” he murmured, watching it spin as it hung from his finger.

Shiro set the bin he was carrying down to pull Keith into his arms. He still smelled like espresso beans and caramel syrup.

“I’m going to make sure that your first Christmas is the best Christmas ever,” he promised.

 

 

Much to Shiro’s delight, his Christmas spirit was infectious.

“We need way, way more lights,” Keith declared as Shiro’s meager collection was only enough for a single small tree.

Mixed as their neighborhood was, several houses on the street were heavily festooned with Christmas lights, and Keith’s face lit up just as brightly as the lights the first time they were turned on at night.

“We need lights like those!” he exclaimed, pulling Shiro down the road to point at a set of twinkling icicle lights. “And those!” - about a front walkway lined with light-up candy canes. “We need to decorate the outside of our house, not just the inside!”

Shiro grinned. His Christmas bonus check would be burned through in a heartbeat under the force of Keith’s enthusiasm, but he didn’t mind one bit. If Keith wanted lights, they’d get lights. They’d get enough lights to be seen by the satellites in space.

 

 

A light dusting of snow coated the ground, but the air was sharp with the promise of more. Shiro forced earmuffs and a scarf onto Keith, despite his husband protesting that he was fine. The redness of his cheeks and nose said otherwise as they wandered through the clusters of fir trees, their search for the perfect Christmas tree stretching on.

“What are you looking for?” Shiro asked in amusement as Keith rejected yet another potential tree.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Keith said, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. “It’ll call out to me.”

Shiro chuckled, swinging their connected hands absently. He couldn’t properly feel Keith’s hand through two layers of mittens, but staying warm was more important.

“That’s it!” Keith exclaimed, pointing out a tree that stood alone in a small clearing.

Shiro immediately understood. It was absolutely perfect. Deep green branches, fluffy without being too big for their cozy living room, just the right height to fit the light up star on the top.

He pulled his husband into a sideways embrace. “Our first tree,” he said.

“Our first tree,” Keith echoed, lifting the axe he’d been carrying.

Shiro stepped out of the way, and with brisk efficiency Keith felled the tree.

Together, they tied it to the sled they’d brought, and began the long walk back to their car.

 

****

 

Shiro always woke early on Christmas morning, but this time he was shaken awake by Keith, coffee and breakfast already made by the scent of it.

“What time did you wake up?” he asked with a sleepy smile.

“I don’t know,” Keith said. “It was still dark. But that’s not important! Get up! It’s Christmas!”

Shiro let himself be dragged out of bed, and he gasped as he stumbled into the living room to find that the tree was now surrounded with gifts.

“K-Keith,” he stammered. “What’s all this?”

“Santa came, obviously,” Keith said, rolling his eyes with a laugh.

“This… is too much,” Shiro protested.

“No talking” Keith said, covering Shiro’s mouth with his hand. “You did so much to make sure Christmas was amazing for me, I wanted to do the same for you.”

Shiro gently pulled Keith’s hand away but didn’t let go of it. “Just having you with me is more than enough, but thank you. You’ve made this Christmas even more magical.”

Keith raised himself up for a quick kiss. “I made french toast, and I think it actually came out good this time,” he said softly.

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” Shiro assured, despite all previous evidence indicating otherwise.

Surprisingly, it _was_ delicious. A Christmas miracle.

 

 

Outside the window gentle snow had been falling for about an hour, blanketing everything in a fresh layer of white. Shiro could see it sparkling in the glow of the street light outside, cold and blue. Inside, though, the room was lit with warm yellow of the Christmas tree. Against his shoulder, Keith was gently dozing, his early morning catching up to him. Shiro carefully removed the empty mug of cocoa from his slack fingers, setting it on the coffee table.

He could carry his husband to bed, but sat there a while longer, just staring at his sleeping face and marvelling at how he’d gotten so lucky. Keith was everything he could have ever wanted. Tenderly, he brushed a strand of hair off his cheek, and then continued to rub his cheek with his thumb. His chest ached with just how much he adored his husband. Their first Christmas together had been even more magical than anything from a cheesy holiday special. And the rings on their fingers promised many more Christmases to come.

Keith’s eyelids twitched and fluttered open as Shiro’s caresses stirred him from his sleep.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” Shiro whispered. “Ready for bed baby?”

Keith hummed and nodded. Shiro easily scooped him up, and Keith smiled as he closed his eyes again, resting against Shiro’s chest.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” Shiro asked as he tucked his husband into bed.

“Mhmm. Did you?”

Shiro crawled in beside him and Keith immediately cuddled close. “It was the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

 

****

 

“Where do you want to go for our anniversary dinner?” Shiro asked, noticing that the special date was only a week away.

“Our what?” Keith asked, looking up from the book he was reading.

“Our anniversary,” Shiro repeated.

Keith still looked confused, and Shiro guessed this was yet another thing Keith hadn’t been exposed to.

“Next Friday, it’ll be exactly a year since our wedding,” he explained. “Typically, people celebrate that. But we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Keith’s face lit up. “No, that’s definitely something we should celebrate,” he agreed. “Can we go to that sushi place on Highbridge?”

“Whatever you want,” Shiro said with a smile, leaning over the couch to kiss the top of Keith’s head.

His husband smiled, tilting his head back to request another kiss, this time on his lips.

“A whole year,” Shiro heard Keith murmur behind him as he headed down the hall to change out of his work clothes.

Shiro couldn’t believe it, either. It was so perfect, so wonderful, it felt like nothing bad could ever happen again. Or, even if it did, he’d never have to face it alone.

 

****

 

Shiro wasn’t sure what had woken him up. Echoing that night so many months ago, the first night that Keith had agreed to stay, the bedroom was illuminated by moonlight and he was wide awake. He was also alone. Panic seized his heart as he realized Keith was no longer in bed beside him.

“Keith?”

His fear only grew as there was no reply. Turning on lights as he went, Shiro ran through the house, calling Keith’s name. There was never an answer, and his husband was nowhere to be found.

In the entryway, their shoes were undisturbed, but the door was unlocked. Nausea rolled through him, and he hurried back to their bedroom. The fox fur coat was gone.

Shiro covered his mouth with his hand, trembling, his eyes burning with tears. What had gone wrong? Nothing seemed different. They’d just celebrated their anniversary, and a few days after Keith had excitedly announced that he was getting a promotion at the coffee shop.

What had changed?

Movement outside the bedroom window caught his eye, and Shiro yanked back the curtain. Maybe Keith had just taken a walk?

But his husband wasn’t in the yard, just a fox. As he watched, the disappointment suffocating him, the outline of the fox blurred and shifted.

Shiro blinked, trying to make sense of what his eyes were seeing. Once his vision cleared, he no longer saw a fox, but rather, Keith, wearing nothing but the fox fur coat loosely draped over his shoulders.

Suddenly, everything made sense. The scar on his shoulder mirrored by the scar on his coat. The way he never thought to ask him any questions about his past. The fact that he decided to stay only after he handed his coat back to him.

His husband was a _kitsune_. A fairy tale creature, or so he’d thought. But he’d married one. The sun had even shone through the rain on their wedding, just like the stories.

“Keith,” Shiro breathed.

Quiet as he was and with a pane of glass between them, there was no way that Keith heard, but somehow he looked up, and their eyes met.

The relief Shiro felt faded as he saw the absolute terror on Keith’s face. His husband’s lips formed the shape of his name before once again he was staring at a fox. A fox that turned and fled into the forest behind their house.

Forgoing a jacket or even shoes, Shiro raced outside. The moonlight was bright, but the budding branches blocked too much of the light for him to properly see. Nonetheless, he kept up the search until the sun rose. His feet hurt and he was shivering, and he hadn’t found Keith. He returned to an empty home. Keith’s shoes were still by the door, and he’d left a half finished book on the coffee table. Shiro sat down on the floor and wept.

 

 

Keith didn’t return that day. Or the next. Or the next. Or the next week. Or the next month. Shiro tried to keep his absence secret, but his friends quickly grew suspicious, and after six weeks, he couldn’t hide it anymore.

Keith was gone.

Shiro didn’t tell them the whole truth, knowing they wouldn’t even believe the part about Keith being a _kitsune_. To their credit, they didn’t say ‘I told you so,’ even though he could see it on their faces. He appreciated their sympathy even though they’d never really been supportive.

They tiptoed around him, ‘dropping by’ now and then, with pizza, or a movie, or a case of beer. He noticed that they never let him be alone for too long, handling him like a fragile thing.

He supposed that he was.

For weeks, he waited and hoped. Keith’s toothbrush stayed in the bathroom, his shoes by the door, the book still on the coffee table. As time went on, those little reminders just ate at his heart like acid. He put them away, but couldn’t get rid of anything, even as the weeks stretched into months.

The day he discovered that Keith’s wedding ring left behind in his nightstand drawer, Shiro drank far too much whiskey and cried himself to sleep.

At least the blinding hangover the next morning was a distraction from his heartache.

He left the ring in the drawer.

Shiro navigated his life on autopilot, to the degree that several weekends he found himself at work because he forgot what day it was. He forgot to eat and slept too much, drifting from day to day like a ghost.

He appreciated his friends, he really did, but there concern grew a little suffocating. He could tell that they were getting frustrated with his inability to move on. To them, he was finally seeing Keith for who they’d always known he was.

But that wasn’t true at all. Other than that one dark secret, Keith was open and honest and heartfelt and he really, really loved him.

… so why didn’t he come home? Did he believe that Shiro wouldn’t accept him for who he was, now that he knew the truth? Or maybe… he was forbidden from returning. The ‘disagreement’ that resulted in the vicious scar on Keith’s shoulder, was it because other fox shifters didn’t want him getting so close to a human?

These thoughts plagued every waking moment. Alcohol silenced them for a while, but his dependence on drinking was becoming a problem of its own. He didn’t need his friends to stage another kind of intervention.

A dark part of him acknowledged that the only thing that kept him alive was the barest flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, his husband would come home.

Seasons passed and winter returned. Shiro left the Christmas decorations in the garage.

That flicker of hope was guttering.

 

****

 

Shiro stared down into the glass of amber liquid. This was a new low, alone in the dark on Christmas Eve with a bottle of whiskey. He took a sip and his stomach immediately twisted. The glass clunked back down onto the counter as he spat into the sink. Maybe he should just go to bed.

His path down the hall was halted by a faint knock on the door. Frowning, he turned around, wondering if he’d misheard.

The knock sounded again, a little more firmly.

Shiro sighed heavily. He wouldn’t put it past Pidge, or maybe Lance or Allura, to ‘stop by’ to check on him. He pulled the door open.

Keith stood on the concrete porch without a scrap of clothing, lips nearly purple with cold as the whipping wind assaulted his skin with snowflakes. Shock was Shiro’s first instinct, but it was quickly replaced with single-minded concern for his husband’s safety.

With chattering teeth, Keith attempted to speak, but Shiro was already pulling him inside.

“I’m running you a hot bath,” he said, leading him down the hall to the bathroom. “Christ, Keith, how long were you out like this?”

Keith shrugged, shaking his head. Flakes scattered from his hair at the motion.

Shiro wrapped Keith in several towels before turning on the bathwater. Keith sat on the lid of the toilet, trembling.

“I’m s-sorry,” he forced out. “I d-didn’t think this through. I wanted to talk before I imposed on you like this.”

Shiro knelt on the tiles, his hands on Keith’s knees. “This was - is - your home, too.”

Keith raised his head, and Shiro got a proper look at him. A savage scar cut across his cheek, narrowly avoiding blinding his eye. It looked like a burn, and the more Shiro looked, the more scars he saw. Patchy burns latticed his skin, from his feet and hands all the way up his chest, and Shiro assumed there was even more where he couldn’t see. Sensing the weight of Shiro’s gaze, Keith drew the towels tighter around him.

“What happened?” Shiro whispered, taking Keith’s hand and gently rubbing his thumb over the burns.

Keith flinched as if the injuries were fresh, despite looking like old scars.

“It was the only way I could come back,” he breathed. “I am - was - bound by certain rules. Surely you understand now what I am.”

Shiro nodded. “A _kitsune_. A fox shifter.”

“Yes,” Keith said. “The rules that bound me were thus - I could only stay with someone who handed me back my fox skin. And then I had to be very careful. If I were to tell you the truth, I would be trapped in my fox shape forever. Because you saw me… I had to leave. I didn’t want to, but there was nothing else I could do.”

Shiro’s stomach bottomed out. Keith hadn’t wanted to leave.

“But you’re here now,” he said.

“I had to destroy my fox skin.” Keith’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I… I burned it. And now… I’m like this. Hideous and deformed. Unable to ever shift again.”

He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. “If I could have talked to you about it first, I would have. I’m sorry I’m so ugly now, but I had to be with you, even if it’s just for tonight. Please, just let me stay tonight.”

Shiro silenced Keith’s begging by pulling his hands away from where they hid his face. His husband’s eyes were red, tears clinging to his lashes. He tenderly wiped them away with his thumbs.

“Do you think so little of me?” He murmured.

He tugged him to his feet, the towels falling away. “I could never find you anything less than breathtakingly beautiful.”

Keith fell into his arms, and Shiro embraced him tightly, burying his face against the top of his head.

“I love you, Keith,” he said, his throat raw with tears of his own. “I’ve missed you every single minute you’ve been away.” He kissed the whorl of hair at his crown. “Did it hurt?”

Keith didn’t respond for a moment, but he slowly nodded. “It was agonizing,” he confessed. “It was like I had walked into a wall of flames. It went on and on. I couldn’t even feel the snow at first as I ran here, all I could feel was fire. But it’s all gone now, so it’s over…”

Shiro held his husband tighter, pained by the suffering he endured all because he looked out the window at the wrong time.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, kissing his hair again.

Keith pulled away, looking up at him. “I would do it again, a thousand times, just to be here in your arms.”

“Oh, Keith…”

Keith’s lips were still cold when Shiro kissed him, but they quickly warmed beneath his own. His husband wound his arms around his neck, and Shiro rested his hands in the small of his back, the place they seemed to always fit so perfectly.

“Bath,” Shiro reminded as he pulled away, blinking away tears. “Your skin still feels like ice.”

Keith nodded, climbing into the tub obediently.

“I’m sorry you had to lose part of yourself in order to be with me, but I’m so happy to have you back,” Shiro confessed as he crouched beside the tub.

Keith raised one hand out of the water, reaching out to Shiro. He took it, lacing their fingers together.

“I made a vow to you.” Keith said. “Giving up that side of myself… it hurt, and not just the physical pain. It was hard to lose part of my identity. But sometimes that’s what marriage is. It’s pain and sacrifice and hard choices. I would rather spend the rest of my life by your side in this shape than live alone with both forms. ‘Til death do us part.”

Shiro drew Keith’s hand closer to kiss his knuckles. “‘Til death do us part,” he echoed.

It was late when Shiro finally let Keith leave the warm water, drying him off thoroughly until his hair was fluffy from the blow drier and his skin was pink. They climbed into bed together just as the digital clock clicked over to midnight. Shiro took out the wedding band that Keith had left behind. He’d had never stopped wearing his own. Keith allowed Shiro to put it on his finger, the same as the first time he’d put it on at the altar. Despite the scars on his hands, it still fit perfectly.

His husband was changed now, scarred and unable to run freely as a fox. But he still loved him just as fiercely as he had before.

Keith laid his head on Shiro’s chest just like he always had, and Shiro wrapped one arm around his shoulders. Finally, this bedroom felt like home again.

Home.

Shiro found himself smiling, overjoyed that his husband was home.

“I’ve just thought of something,” he whispered in the dark.

“What’s that?” Keith mumbled, sounding half asleep already.

“You’re home in time for Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and Lorien, I hope you enjoyed your gift!
> 
> I can be found on most other social media as meoqie.


End file.
